Personal Narrative: My First Vietnam War

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The first time that I camped by myself was the night I learned just how loud the quiet could be. It was at Riffe Lake by Mossyrock, Washington and my tent was set up in a small camping area near the dam where I would be able to go straight down to the water and fish. I'd arrived very early that morning to set up and was greeted by the sounds of birds in the trees singing their various songs like an improvisational band. Never the same song twice, but always right on cue. I was just sixteen then, and ready to fearlessly take on the unknown. My parents had gone away for the weekend, so I figured that I might as well too. It was supposed to be a full moon, and I'd always wanted to camp under the full moon. I had long ago cast off the fears of childhood, of boogeymen, of ghosts, of the dark; but I was still afraid of being alone in the dark where the boogeymen and ghosts could get me.…show more content…
I had spent most of the day fishing and writing down by the water, and I came back with several trout in a cooler and a couple of poems. It felt like I'd captured a fortune in those simple things. The sun had nearly gone down by the time I'd settled in to cook my gutted trout on the fire. I'd wrapped the fish in aluminum foil with thin-cut orange slices and a little juice in the bottom and threw it right on the grate above the low flame. The air filled with the smells of orchards and water and left an impression of summer's embrace to settle in my bones. The snapping and crackling of the fire and the soothing symphony of frogs and crickets were the only sounds I heard or cared about. I'd brought a guitar with me since there wasn't really anyone there to bother that early in the season, but it felt like sacrilege to pit my talentless strumming against the perfection of nature's serenade. After I'd eaten and properly put the refuse and fire to rest, I turned in for the

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